


Operation Volt

by Afterstory (poetic_devices)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Spy!AU, The Blade of Marmora is an intel agency, and a little UST for good measure, ibbchallenge, sniper!lance, spy!Keith, spy!Lance, this was fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetic_devices/pseuds/Afterstory
Summary: Prompt:Allura DelaRoi runs a tight ship over at Altea HQ, an intelligence agency hidden right under the noses of Galra Tech - a corrupt, worldwide company that also deals in smuggling.Lance McClain, Altea's infiltration specialist and sniper extraordinaire, along with his trusty tech crew, have been given one mission: find out exactly what Galra Tech has been hiding. There's only one problem --Another agency is on the job. And if they want a chance at pulling this off, they'll all need to work together.





	Operation Volt

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [IBB_SummerChallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/IBB_SummerChallenge) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Allura DelaRoi runs a tight ship over at Altea HQ, an intelligence agency hidden right under the noses of Galra Tech - a corrupt, worldwide company that also deals in smuggling. 
> 
> Lance McClain, Altea's infiltration specialist and sniper extraordinaire, along with his trusty tech crew, have been given one mission: find out exactly what Galra Tech has been hiding. There's only one problem - 
> 
> -Another agency is on the job. And if they want a chance at pulling this off, they'll all need to work together.

Allura is very annoyed. With Lance.

Nothing new and different there.

“No way. Absolutely not, nuh uh,” Lance says, shaking his head.

Allura, who happens to be his boss as well as the head of the Altea Intelligence Agency, shoves the headpiece into his hand gracelessly, ignoring Lance’s protests. “You’re the only one who knows how to climb a bloody building with nothing but his hands. Lance, you’re going in. Pidge and Hunk will cover you.”

“Just because I’m doing this doesn’t mean I’m gonna _like_ it,” Lance grumbles, but snatches the headpiece out of Allura’s hands and shoves it on.

“You didn’t… you don’t have to put that on just yet, Lance.”

“Testing testing… one two three… shave and a haircut shave and a haircut…” Lance makes a few more noises into the mouthpiece, ignoring her. The headpiece isn’t even turned on, so what he’s actually getting out of this is a mystery to all of them.

Only four of them are in the main conference room, a neat, windowless room with a long conference table made of some sort of fancy plastic with a varnish that gives it the look of wood. It’s sound proofed in here, with walls so thick that it’s impossible to listen in on meetings without some seriously heavy duty equipment.

The whole point of this room is the privacy of it. Where would an intelligence agency be without its privacy?

“If you can get the files duplicated onto this flash drive and get back out of there without getting yourselves A, caught or B, killed,” she holds up a small, black flash drive and toys with it between her middle and index fingers, “consider yourself promoted.”

At the mention of a promotion, Lance perks up quickly. Even Pidge looks interested - even though she technically won’t be the one actually going into the building.

VrepiTech Security Inc., a.k.a. Galra Tech, is an international monopoly on computer security programs and anti-virus software. According to Altea’s intelligence specialists, the company is also very big in doing commissions for some serious computer viruses. As in, _creating_ the viruses. Not stopping them. Case in point, they’re a threat to national security.

It’s not that hard to see why Altea is so keen to dismantle VrepiTech from the inside out as quickly as possible.

“ _Hell_ yeah, we are so on it, princess,” Lance says, swiping the flash drive and pocketing it with a self-sure grin.

“How many times must I tell you to either call me--”

“Allura or m’am, yeah, I gotcha. Apologies, _m’am.”_

Allura raises an eyebrow, scowling as she watches Lance stash the flash drive. She wishes he’d be a little more professional about this.

But Lance is the agency’s top man for infiltration. Not to mention one of their top snipers - it goes without saying that the agency needs him. He annoys the shit out of most of the Board of Directors, but they need him.

“...It’s a start. Okay then,” she steeples her fingers as she lowers herself back down into the swivel chair at the head of the conference table, “We’ll be going under the operation name ‘Volt.’ If anyone has any questions before I hand you your briefing material, please step up.”

Pidge raises her hand, looking serious in her plain black jumpsuit and belt filled with tech gear. Like Lance, she’s chosen to remain standing. Just Hunk and Allura sit at the table like adults. “Yeah. What’s our time look like? Just an estimate, so I can start working with ways to cut out the security cameras at the right moments before we really do this.”

“Excellent question - I hope the rest of you are taking notes -” Allura shoots Lance a pointed look. He winks at her, and she scowls right back. But they’re _professionals_. “I want you all to be in and out within half an hour. Cut out the security cameras at least five minutes before Lance is within sight of the building. Once he’s in, just make sure you have some looped footage running, and from there it’s up to him to get the drive in and out with the files. You know the drill.”

Everyone nods.

“Good,” says Allura, and pulls a stack of papers out of her briefcase. She slides a packet of information stamped **_Confidential_ ** one by one to each member of the mission. “Your car arrives in an hour. Suit up, we’ve got a VrepiTech Headquarters to infiltrate.”

 

**007**

 

The car drops them off half a mile away from their destination to avoid suspicion, and they say very little on the way there.

Lance checks to make sure his comms unit is on and secured, tapping the headset once for a signal.

As soon as Pidge gives the all-clear (she’d already managed to shut off the outside cameras and sensors twenty minutes prior) Lance is all set to go.

With a smirk, he cracks his knuckles and _throws_ himself at the wall before him, catching himself on some unseen indent in the brickwork of the building.

It looks like a plain old apartment building, but they know better. Lance sucks in a breath and starts to climb, hand after hand after foot, feeling around for any foothold, any slight crack in the face of the building that he can grab as he keeps going, ascending the apartment building with apparent ease.

He notices as he continues to climb the side of the building like a stealthier version of Spider Man that all of the windows have been blacked out. It’s impossible to see into a single one, either because dark curtains have been drawn over them tightly, or because someone’s gone and painted thoroughly over the glass with a thick layer of black paint.

Yup. Definitely the right place.

Lance finally reaches the top of the five-story building, breathing just a little heavier than normal, and climbs over the side of the roof. He steps foot onto a surface that’s horizontal and flat, instead of vertical and dangerously unsound. Always nice to have one less thing to worry about, he supposes. Plummeting five stories to his death because of one poorly placed foot is _not_ something he has time for.

Once on the roof, he brings up his watch, clicks a button that sends a signal to Pidge to assure he’s made it up. He can practically see Pidge giving her little thumbs up on the other end. With a self-satisfied half smile, he buckles down and gets to it. He’s got a sunroof to find and a cable drop to rig up. No biggie.

 

**007**

 

It’s dark in the air vents.

Probably something he should’ve expected, but hey, it comes with the territory. Can’t be a real agent without climbing through at least one air vent in your career. Lance has crawled through a shit ton of ‘em.

“Okay Pidgey,” he breathes into his mouthpiece, “just let me know when I’m above the room, and I’ll lower myself through.”

“Copy that,” he hears Pidge say, quiet for Lance’s sake. Just because Hunk’s done a scan of the inside of the building through the sensor strapped to Lance’s belt, that doesn’t mean someone can’t hear them in person. Like, a physical person, somewhere down in a room just below the air vents. And getting caught would kind of defeat the purpose of the air vents.

“You’re close,” Pidge says through comms. “Another meter and a half, and it’ll be right below you.”

“On it. Hell yeah, here we go…”

"Please be careful man," he hears Hunk add his two cents over his own comms unit. Lance smiles fondly. Leave it to Hunk to worry over him. 

"I'm good, bro," he assures. "I totally got this."

He catches sight of a crack in the vent, a shred of light peeking in through the tiny space. This must be it.

The computer with the files he needs will be in this room. And with his shit luck, probably one or two guards keeping it safe, too.

 

And then suddenly the tiny speck of light is gone, blocked out by a mass large enough to be another person.

Scratch that, it _is_ another person.

Lance looks up and his face falls when he sees who it is.

“Oh, _hell_ no.”

 

**007**

 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

 

As soon as Keith sees Lance, on all fours like him in the air vent with a headset and a belt loaded with equipment, he knows he’s in for a much more complicated mission than the one he’d signed up for.

It’s always more complicated than it needs to be, isn’t it?

“Please tell me you’re not here for the VrepiTech files,” Keith groans, voice barely above a whisper, but by now he knows that it’s already too late. Lance is here. He’s just gonna have to deal.

Lance sits back on his heels. There’s barely enough room, and his hair brushes the top of the vent. What, hadn’t he thought to wear a goddamn hat?

Keith himself is sporting a classic black beanie, because he actually gives a damn about his job. His hair is longer than Lance’s. And with sensors everywhere, a lock of hair hanging where it’s not supposed to could suddenly mean life or death for him.

But Lance doesn’t appear to like the rules very much.

“Shiro,” Keith murmurs into his headset with a scowl, keeping an eye on Lance, who waits patiently. It seems both parties are at an impasse.

“Keith, what’s wrong?” his brother asks over the comms unit, worried. “Do you have a visual?”

“Not exactly,” says Keith, looking back at Lance with narrowed eyes as he removes his night vision goggles. “We’ve got a bit of a situation.”

Lance scoffs - quietly - and hisses back, “Yeah? Well none of this would even be an issue if your little Blade of Marmora pals just let Altea do their thing, okay?”

“Please,” Keith pinches the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand, “just… just shut up.”

Lance looks like he wants to yell, but doing that would put them in even more danger than they already are. “Shiro,” he says again, “it looks like Altea already sent a guy over. What’s your call?”

“Yeah, what _is_ his call?” Lance adds unhelpfully.

Shiro laughs softly over Keith’s earpiece. “It’s Lance McClain, isn’t it?”

Keith bares his teeth because _god damn it, Shiro, now is not the time to be smug._ “How'd you even kn-- y'know what, it doesn't matter. So what the hell do I do?” he says, not interested in playing the question game right now. He’s got files to download and an asshole with a sniper scope attached to his belt to keep out of his way.

Shiro goes silent for a second, but then he’s back to his own, strategic self, focused. “So you’re both after the same files, correct?”

“Yup.”

Lance cocks an eyebrow when Keith doesn’t indicate anything clear.

“Okay… and it’s just the two of you?”

“As far as I can see, yeah,” Keith mutters. “So?”

“Well,” oh man, Keith does _not_ like that tone. It’s that tone Shiro has when he gets all smug and has one of his _ideas._ Keith can feel his stomach flopping around somewhere near his throat. “Since there really isn’t a protocol for this… might I suggest working it out for yourselves? No one ever said there couldn’t be two agencies with a copy of this information, and we trust Altea.”

Lance apparently hears that much, because he nods back vigorously, quietly pumping a fist in the air and nearly connecting with the thin metal of the vent above them. Thank god it doesn’t.

“Hell yeah you guys can trust us. So are we doing this together or not, Kogane?” he waggles his eyebrows, just to piss Keith off even more.

“Do I have a choice,” he deadpans back into the mouthpiece, already resigned to the fact that he’s lost this round.

“Nnnope. Afraid not,” Shiro says, not sounding sorry at all. “Best of luck, buddy.”

With that, he clicks off.

Keith releases a long, drawn out breath. Well. No use trying to get Lance out of here, consider the guy is nearly as stubborn as Keith - which is really saying something.

“You got a cable rigged up to go?” he asks tiredly.

Lance springs into action in a second, rummaging around his belt for the cable in question. “Heck yeah, gimme like two minutes.”

Keith sighs.

They’re really doing this, huh? They're just gonna.. yeah.

Fuck, he doesn't get paid enough for this.

 

**007**

 

With the cable rigged up and ready to go, it’s agreed that they’ll take turns dropping into the room, downloading the files onto their respective flash drives, and then getting the hell out of there the way they came.

“We just need to cut through this,” Keith taps a finger lightly over the sheet metal. It’s a good thing neither of them weighs all that much, or they’d run the risk of breaking through. Lance loves surprises, but even that’s something he’d have to draw the line on. There’s a difference between dropping twenty feet on a roller coaster when you meant to get on the roller coast in the first place, and dropping ten feet through a sheet metal air vent when you sure as hell didn’t intend it.

Lance maps out the circle with the laser pointer, nodding thoughtfully.

“What are you, a college professor?” Keith mutters, but he follows the general shape and gets to it, pulling out what must be his laser (a real laser, not just a pretty light) and steadily holds it over the vents. The metal hisses gently when the heat of the laser hits it, but Keith grits his teeth and keeps carving.

There’s just a couple inches left, the circle of metal primed and ready to break through, but he hazards a glance over at Lance. Lance is watching intensely, eyes on the slowly weakening vent.

“Maybe you should leave an inch so it doesn’t fall through?” he suggests offhandedly.

“I _know_ what I’m _doing.”_

Finally, the circular carving, courtesy of Keith’s handy dandy laser, is complete. He leaves just enough metal to hang onto, so it doesn’t fall through as Lance mentioned. But it’s not like it’s a super unique idea that only Lance McClain could think of, okay?

“I’ll go first,” Keith says before Lance can get another word in, and shoves the laser and the reel of line for the cable into Lance’s hands. “Here, hold this.” Then he clips the metal hook to his belt, and pushes a little, just until the metal gives an inch. Yeah, it’ll go just fine. What he’s worried about is whoever is waiting for him down below, ready to alert security. Or maybe just shoot him on sight.

“Lance,” he says, hating how he has to ask for help. “Can you see through the crack from where you are?”

Lance cranes his neck, lips pursed. “Uhh… yeah, a little bit. Ohhh-- shit. Guard.”

He points lamely to the floor of the vent, in what would be the direction of said guard.

Keith’s brow scrunches in concentrated thought. “Great. Okay, _now_ what?”

“How heavy is that circle of sheet metal?” Lance wonders aloud.

Confused, Keith answers without thinking as he rubs his temples, eyes closed, “I dunno. Few pounds, maybe? Why?”

“And if it fell with enough force right on someone’s head, would it be enough to knock someone out?”

Keith stares. He can’t seriously be thinking…?

“I highly doubt that,” he says. They don’t have time for this, they really don’t.

“What if there was a person sitting right on top of the circle who weighed at least a hundred thirty-five more pounds - pure muscle mass, by the way-” Keith rolls his eyes at that, “-And fell onto the guard, at just the right time?”

That… has Keith thinking.

He wonders. “That- That just might do it," he says, giving a little _huh_ in thought. "You have something in mind?”

At that, Lance strikes up a flurry of quick hand motions. Keith frowns, even more confused now. He shakes his head, not understanding.

Lance huffs and goes through the motions again, hands a little slower this time, pointing first to himself, then to the carved up vent, then jabs his finger at Keith and the laser in his hand, then back to himself. He looks proud.

Keith finally gets it.

_It could work._

Swallowing, Keith wonders what’s gotten into him to actually agree to an idea conjured up by Lance McClain, but he supposes they’re out of options.

“Okay. Okay, fine, but the timing has to be just right. Don’t jump until I tell you to, okay?”

 

Then they wait.

 

Lance keeps his eyes on the tiny sliver in between the cut up metal, where he can just barely see the figure of a burly guard pacing the room. As soon as he steps underneath them, then they’re golden. Just a few more steps to the right and…

 

_Gotcha._

 

Lance quickly shoots Keith a look and nods fast, readying himself for lift off. Or touchdown. Whatever.

Keith wastes no time, motioning for Lance to get close while he shoots the laser, slicing away at the last few inches of sheet metal that hold up the circle, which is nearly three feet in diameter and unstable now without those few inches of grip.

 _Now,_ Keith mouths.

Lance jumps, landing on his knees as he touches down in the middle of the circle.

It gives immediately.

It’s the same feeling in his stomach as the one he gets on a rollercoaster, the moment when he hits a loopty-loop. Lance goes down, falling hard with a big circle of metal beneath his knees. It’ll give him a little something extra. He’s always liked a flashy entrance.

True to his theory, Lance actually lands where he wants to - right on top of the guard. There’s a shout, but it breaks off as Lance crashes the rest of the way to the floor.

When he gets up, brushing himself off like he’d just taken an evening stroll instead of knocking out a guard in one, clean hit, he gets to business.

“All clear!” he calls up to Keith. He doesn’t yell, obviously, because he’s not _stupid_ for crying out loud, but he is excited that his idea ended up working out better than even he’d hoped.

“Coming down,” Keith answers from the vents, much more subdued than Lance. Lance rolls his eyes when Keith lowers himself down by cable.

Except, the cable breaks. Keith goes down hard - right on top of Lance.

At least he had something to break his fall.

“Umm, _ow,”_ Lance complains, shoving Keith off of him as he stands back up, feeling like the wind’s been knocked out of him.

Keith, on the other hand, brushes it off with a bit more grace. “I’m _fine,_ thanks for asking,” he snaps as he reaches into a pocket of his black cargo pants to pull out a flash drive. Like Lance’s, the drive is black, except for a little purple symbol etched into it. The Blade of Marmora’s trademark, Lance remembers.

Altea and Marmora go way back, Lance has been briefed more than once on how to handle one of the Blade’s agents if he ever meets them on a planned mission.

This, however, was not planned.

Hey, it’s not like his work is ever predictable. That’s what makes it _fun_. It's just that right now, Keith is kinda putting a damper on things.

“Just hurry up and download the dumb files so that _I_ can download the dumb files,” Lance shoots back, hands on his hips.

“Whatever. Just keep lookout.”

From there, it’s smooth sailing. At least, smooth enough. It takes Keith ten minutes to download everything and by then, Lance is sure that no one’s gonna be coming after them. Still, just to be safe they’d better speed things along. Just in case someone decides to drop by for a quick check-in.

“Hurry up,” Keith says, a little needlessly since Lance is already hopping to the computer with his own flash drive already in hand. He taps on his comms unit and gives Pidge and Hunk a couple words for reassurance.

“Hey, I’m in. Gimme like fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready to meet outside. Copy?”

“Hell yeah we copy,” Pidge says. She sounds satisfied with the ETA, and Lance can hear Hunk hooting for him in the background. “Nice work. Meet you outside in fifteen.”

He inserts the drive and starts to tap away at the keyboard. Yup, there are the files. Everything he needs.

_Click._

**Please wait…**

And then,

**Downloading files**

Lance smirks to himself. _Too easy._

“Lance…” Keith says nervously.

 

That’s when the alarm sounds.

 _Spoke too soon,_ Lance thinks to himself.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Keith mutters, head whipping around just as Lance pulls out his flash drive and stashes it. The only way out now is through the open door. Their eyes both flash to the door in question, then back to each other.

“After you?” Keith offers with a wave to the door. The alarms sound like they’re getting louder, and it’s in that moment that they both hear voices just down the hall.

It’s time to get a move on.

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Lance says, and Keith groans at the lame joke despite the circumstances. But he takes Lance up on the offer and sprints, feet flying over the floor, flash drive secure in his zipped up pocket. Lance is right behind him.

 

**007**

 

There are Galra agents flooding into the hall behind them, but it only makes Lance run faster. He’s got long legs and plenty of training for endurance running. The flash drive sits secure in a pack at his belt, files all there through no small miracle, and he pumps his arms harder to keep up with Keith in front of him.

The emergency lights in the hallway flicker purple, casting everything in an otherworldly, pulsing glow. The adrenaline is heavy, and he’s running faster than he ever has in his life. Without his meaning to, a grin spreads over his face.

“Hey Pidge,” he says, panting into the comms, “Recalculating my ETA for about twenty minutes. Got myself in a bit of a sticky situation.”

“Aaaas usual.”

 _Click._ Off go the comms.

It’s at times like these when Lance remembers that he doesn’t just do this for the money.

God no, he does it for the _thrill_.

 


End file.
